tushanshu_logs | [closed] and I watch you as you lose yourself

Entry tags:

[closed] and I watch you as you lose yourself

Characters: Stephanie Brown and Bruce Wayne
Location: Metal Sector, Bruce's suite
Situation: Steph goes to talk to Bruce after meeting Jason. This will go well.
Warnings/Rating: Probably talk of death, Bruce's issues, will update as needed

[This is a bad idea.

The phrase seems to run on an endless loop through her mind as Steph makes her way to the Metal sector, to the building she knows that Bruce is staying in. She'd waited until the party had petered out, until everyone had started drifting home, and it's early evening by the time she's approaching her destination. She'd kept an eye on Bruce, knowing that he must have seen Jason, even if she'd missed the actual confrontation. There's no way Bruce wouldn't have seen him there, and well - the way Bruce had looked during the rest of the party.

Steph might not know him as well as Tim, or Dick, or Cass does, but she's worked with him, she's been Robin, and she knows him well enough to see when he's hurting. It had surprised her a little, how bad she felt for him , despite the fact she's still somewhat sympathetic towards Jason. She wonders if that's a contradiction, or if it's how the rest of their family feels.

Not her family, she has to remind herself as she slips between buildings, keeping to the limited shadows. She has her own family, and anyway, she's never been part of that inner circle, for all that she's dated Tim, been Cass's best friend, worked as Robin. Bruce isn't her family, and the closer she gets to this conversation, the more she starts to question whether she has a right to bring it up.

It's a really bad idea.

But Dick isn't here, neither is Alfred, or Babs, and she doesn't know about Tim, which leaves it to her. Because god forbid she's going to let Bruce stew in this alone, for his sake, for Jason's, and for the entire city of Keeliai. Gotham can handle their family drama, this place isn't built the same way. Maybe she doesn't have a right to talk to him about this, but she cares enough that she wants to try anyway.

She's dressed simply, in "local" clothes, though she'd still been careful to make sure no one sees her, and by the time she's knocking on Bruce's front door, she's confident that her journey here has gone undetected. That doesn't make her any less nervous, and all she can hear is her heart beating too fast as she waits for the door to open.

She hopes this isn't a bad idea.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He almost doesn't hear the knock at the door, which is probably a sign of how far gone he is. How damned distracted he's feeling and how easily his world is turned upside down by Jason Todd, even after all these years.

Bruce delivers one final blow to the punching bag he's set up in one corner of his open suite, and then he catches it, stills the motion. He leans his forehead against it briefly and for a moment the only sound in the room is his own harsh breathing and the creaking of the bag's chain overhead. He gives himself three seconds to find his centre, and then forces his mind to concentrate on the knock at the door.

Judging by the placement of the knock, the individual is between 5'6 and 5'8. The knock was purposeful enough that he suspects it's someone he knows - really knows, hasn't just met - and the majority of people he knows would have come in through a window.

Stephanie.

He begins unwrapping his hands as he goes for the door, because for all his anger and rage and guilt and pain - yes, pain, if he's being perfectly honest with himself - snarled up under the neutral calm he's forcing himself to exude, he wasn't quite stupid enough to do a round of boxing without the proper forethought. He picks up a shirt on his way, shrugs it on over all those old wounds, but doesn't bother buttoning it up just yet.

She's going to want to talk about Jason. He doesn't even need to be the world's greatest detective to come to that conclusion. Any Bat that was at the barbecue would have known what went down, even peripherally. And Stephanie, more than anyone except maybe Barbara, has an interesting track record of just... talking to him. She's not afraid to hold her ground and call him on his shortcomings.

In a way, he respects that. It annoys him, but he can respect it. And that respect - for the girl whose first reaction to his being back was to slap him - is what causes him to open the door.]

Ms. Brown. How can I help you?

[A part of her is surprised he even opens the door. She's not sure what she would have done if he'd just refused to even see her, but it's a relief to not have to consider the possibility of trying to sneak into Bruce's suite.

Except the part of her that's surprised is the same part of her that isn't really prepared what to do now. But, never let it be said that the lack of a plan has stopped her before.]

We're going to talk. [it's not her Batgirl voice, but there's still no room for argument] Or we're going to sit stoically and be silent, or you can keep beating up that punching bag and I'll watch but- [she takes a breath, her voice losing some of it's confidence] You're not gonna be alone.

[Even with that last little drop in sureness, Steph wears defiance like a second skin, and as she waits for his response, there's something in her face that practically says if you want me gone, you'll have to throw me out.

No one should have to deal with something like this alone, not even Bruce.]

[It's a fit of childish pique for which Alfred would no doubt frown at him that makes Bruce almost want to shut the door. He resists the urge and steps back and away from it, allowing her in.

As the Batman, he's always had a complicated relationship with the concept of Batgirl. Barbara created the title for herself, on her own time and turf, and he... tolerated her. Things were simpler then. It was a time before wheelchairs and crowbars and the old bones of Gotham were still buried in the Earth. And Bruce was... younger.

If he'd known then what he knows now, he never would have permitted her to continue in that capacity. He never would have allowed Dick to--

But no. Even then, it was too late for Dick.

So the mantle of Batgirl grew and changed and evolved, became Cassandra became Stephanie, and Bruce rarely had a hand in it himself, not the way he did with his Robins. But Batgirl was a title each of them had earned, paid for in different ways.

Would Barbara have ever been shot if Bruce had just... done more than tolerate her presence? Would Cassandra have ever gone to Shiva if he'd gone through with the adoption earlier?

Would Stephanie have become Batgirl if he hadn't fired her as Robin?

Bruce thinks of all these things as he shuts the door behind her, every motion is deliberate and practised. He's too close to the edge to function on instinct alone at the moment, but at least he knows the general source of his malady.

And so does Steph. Thus her presence here.

She's reminding him a little of Leslie. That's probably a bad sign.

He continues unwrapping his hands as he speaks,]

I wanted to speak with you, regardless. The gang activity in the Northern section of the Fire Sector is intensifying, we're going to need to up our coverage of that area.

[She steps inside, finding a spot where she can lean with her back against the wall, and she doesn't bother to hide the fact that she's watching Bruce. He'd know anyway, no matter how subtle she could try to be, so there's no point wasting the effort. She wonders how long he's been at that punching bag, but at least he had the forethought to wrap his hands.

The fact that he brushes right over the real problem isn't really much of a surprise, but that doesn't mean she's going to let him get away with it.]

Do you genuinely think that's going to work?

[She's curious. She's also not entirely good at being gentle with people like Bruce, because she knows that if she tried to approach the topic carefully, to give him space and time to come to it on his own, nothing would ever get done. He's not going to want to talk about, that's just how he is, but Steph thinks he needs to.]

[His jaw tightens, and he finishes removing the wrap from one hand, starts rolling it back up. Alfred wouldn't appreciate the sight of him cleaning up after himself-- but there's a reason his kitchen is pristine and the rest of his suite is spotless.

After years of living with someone who made a habit of dusting everything twice a day, he can't tolerate any sort of mess. But he thinks it might be for another reason entirely. He... misses Alfred. He's spent time living without his oldest friend before, but it's different this time. And god forbid the man ever show up and see the scion of the Wayne family living in a slovenly state.

Bruce runs his unwrapped hand through his hair. It's sweat-drenched and slicks back easily. She asked the question in the exact right way that he can't avoid it. If he does, he's running. A coward.

It's not that Bruce can't confront his issues. It's that he prefers not to.]

What would you like me to say, Stephanie?

[His tone is calm. He's... weary, more than anything. Just when he thought the open wound Jason left in his life and has been salting ever since couldn't ache any more...

He's getting a migraine, but rather than show it he simply heads into the kitchen. He may as well do something useful while Stephanie wastes her time worrying about whether or not he's going to crack under the pressure.

Those days are long since gone.]

[What would she like him to say? Steph isn't even sure where to start. A million things that run through her head, about half of them actually relevant to this situation, and she suddenly wishes she'd like - written down a pre-prepared speech for this, so she didn't have to try to make decisions on the fly.

So she decides to stick with something simple.]

Are you alright? [A brief pause, and she leaves her spot by the door to follow him to the kitchen. She doesn't get quite within touching range, but she's close, and it's pretty clear that if he were anyone else, she'd have offered a hug by now. She sighs.] I know you're probably just gonna lie to me, and I can't really blame you, it's not like I'm-- [anyone important, family, a friend; he can take his pick of how that sentence should finish]

But he's your son, Bruce. You can lie to me all you like, I still want to help.

Edited 2012-09-07 01:10 (UTC)

[Dick knows better than to breach this subject. Tim's learned. Alfred... has always made a habit of telling him what he needs to hear when he needs to hear it and leaving well enough alone afterwards. He and Barbara have always been able to fill up silences with what they refuse to say, until that one critical moment where everything bubbles up to the surface.

At the end of the day, Bruce is human. He knows it. He feels it in every bone that hasn't quite healed right, each ripped muscle, each tendon he's severed. He's wielded the power of Superman, been in the Lazarus Pit and patched up by the New Gods on Apokolips and he cured a bullet wound once with water tipped out of the Cup of Christ but he's still only human.

That in and of itself hurts more than any blow he's taken, any injury he's endured. Because being human means accepting that there will always be people you can't save. There will always be bullets you can't dodge. There will always be children left gasping your name on cold concrete as blood froths at their lips--

Bruce turns away from Stephanie, gets two glasses down out of the cupboard. It's not necessarily so she can't see his expression - honestly, it doesn't change. He just doesn't want to face her in that moment.]

You're Batgirl. That's enough.

[And finish it he does. She is Batgirl. This child that's already been through so much, who he himself has put through so much. He's never been good at this. But Stephanie was Robin once, too, and he can't and has never been able to articulate what that entails in his mind. Stephanie is not his family, not the way the others are. But she matters.]

I'm fine. Jason being here changes nothing. We carry on, we keep the civilians safe. The rest [the personal cost] doesn't matter.

[That does startle her a little, and for a moment she's actually not even sure what to say, if she should say anything at all.

She doesn't expect much from Bruce, in terms of recognition, or - caring. He loves his children, she doesn't doubt that, he cares about Alfred and Babs, and he cared about her enough to stay with her while she nearly died, but. She didn't expect it to be enough, for her being Batgirl to be enough that she could earn this right, whatever it is, to ask questions like this.

She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat, and tries to focus on the rest of what he said, this isn't really the appropriate time for her to let her own complicated feelings get involved.

It helps that he says something incredibly stupid.]

I know I said you could lie to me, but you should at least put in some effort. [despite the harsh words, her tone is almost gentle, a little tired-sounding. This she did expect; it's not like Bruce was suddenly going to open up to her]

Of course it matters. Of course it's going to change things. It won't - be like back home, because he's not here, you can't give Jason what he wants. [there's no question who "he" is] But don't tell me you're gonna be able to treat him as if he's just some other gangster.

Edited 2012-09-07 07:00 (UTC)

Jason is a threat.

[It's all the answer she's getting. He pulls a pitcher out of the fridge and fills the two glasses. Protein shakes, because it's not like he sits down to cohesive meals often enough to be able to do his job on that alone.

Jason is a threat. He can't deny that. He's dangerous, ruthless, and somewhere along Talia's dark road he lost everything he ever learned about morality at his side. Bruce... can't afford to think of him as a son, as a Robin. He's... he has to be treated as what he will become, because the alternative--

He sets the pitcher down on the countertop and hands one of the glasses to Stephanie.

The alternative, as it were, might kill them both.]

Wow.

[It comes out without her meaning it to, she's so taken aback by that statement that the disdain audible in her tone. She knows he's cold, but this is taking it to another level entirely.]

Are you serious? [she's just going to ignore that offered drink, since she's pretty sure that if she has anything in her hands right now, it's going to get flung straight at Bruce's head.] I really hope that's just you trying to avoid admitting you might actually have emotions. Because, fuck, if that's what you actually think... [somewhere, the rational part of her mind tells her to stop now, before she makes things even worse than she probably has.

But she's so angry that he could reduce his son to nothing more than a threat.]

If that's all you think of him, you don't have any right to be surprised by his anger.

[Fine he'll set it down on the island countertop instead.

Hearing that outloud is... honestly, he'd have preferred the slap. It's better that she think of him this way. That she and the others never realize how close to killing the Joker when Jason died and so many times afterward. That showdown with the three of them in that old building--

God, he still dreams about it. About how things might have gone if he'd just shot the clown right there. A punctured lung. A ruptured liver. He's lost count of the times he's woken up from that dream, hands shaking as he fights down the urge to vomit. Not because of the violence of it all, but because of how desperately he wants to see that violence done.

If he could do it for anyone it would be for Jason. If he could rationalize going down into that darkness at all it would be for Jason.

He doesn't believe Jason can be saved because... in a way, the boy is the manifestation of every failure Bruce has ever had. Every mistake, every wrong decision, every bad call. He's a symbol as much as a son. A good soldier in a war that never ends, never stops-- there is no light at the end of this tunnel, and Bruce long ago accepted it would claim his life. His life, not-- goddamnit, not those of his children.

He doesn't believe Jason can be saved because the thought alone terrifies him. It would feel too much like a slate wiped clean and Bruce has no idea how to live without the blood he's had on his hands for years.

What's one more weakness? One more chink in his armour? He has plenty already. He can't even be angry at Stephanie. She's telling the truth as she knows it, with the pieces he's given her and when has that progressed to disaster before? His jaw tightens abruptly, and his knuckles whiten on his glass.

Three options. He can provoke her to the point where she storms out. He can order her to leave. Or he can discuss the matter with her like a rational adult.

Not alone.

Bruce breathes.

In another life, one where his parents survived that night and he grew up normal and happy, loved-- everything untouchably perfect, he actually saw therapists for that night in the alley. He remembers the facets of that life overlaid with his own, how easy and simple it had been to sit down against calfskin leather and talk about his feelings.

Funny, how a version of him that had never known darkness could do it so easily. It's not that he's never spoken to people about his problems before. Shondra-- she was a medicinal doctor, but her touch healed so much more than his body in the few short months of their acquaintance. He can still remember how he came alive in her presence, how deftly she stripped his defenses away, how willing he was to tell her everything.

And how freeing it felt, to have that option. Cathartic. Like lancing an infection just below the skin, it hurts for a while and then it starts to heal. He understands why people do it. And why he can't.

If he heals, if he stops digging at those old scars, if he loses his anger and hatred he loses everything that makes him Batman. And he can't live without Batman. Batman is everything he built himself to protect what he holds dear and at the end of the day it's no more than a thin veneer between who he is and who he's failed.

Jason. Barbara. Dick, in needing him to become Batman. Damian, for never knowing of his existence. He's the lord and master of a legacy built on blood and bones and bodies, noises like gunshots and falling pearls.]

He made his choice.

Edited 2012-09-07 17:18 (UTC)

[Steph watches him react, her whole posture tense, taught, like she's ready to run. She doesn't think he'd lash out violently, not really, but it's an old fear and one that's hard to ever grow out of. So she watches him, sees his knuckles go white, catches the way the set of his jaw tightens.

Something in her relaxes when all he does is speak, but the anger remains, and it renders her speechless for a moment. She doesn't even know how to begin articulating all that's wrong with that statement. She could yell at him more, try to say the things that'll hurt to most to get him to give some kind of reaction, but what she really wants is for him to understand.]

Do you-- [she has to stop, breathe in, breathe out; she can't look at him as she talks] I'm sure I don't have to explain PTSD to you, god knows all of us probably have it in some form or another, but do you know what it's like to wake up screaming every night, for months in a row, feeling like those hands are on you again, like you're a second away from the worst pain you could imagine? To have to strip all the sheets off your bed 'cause if you get even a little tangled up, you spend the next day crying and feeling like your heart's trying to crawl out of your chest? To have to - ask the people you love not to touch you, and then when they forget, you have to see the hurt on their faces when you flinch, and you have to explain to them it's not their fault that you felt him in their touch? Have you ever had a panic attack every single day for weeks on end, until they have to sedate you to stop you hurting yourself?

[her hands are curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms, her breath coming a little too shallow, and she's pretty sure there are tears in her eyes, half from anger and half from having to dredge this up. But she makes herself look up at Bruce.]

I can't pretend to know what Jason went through, but I know what it was like for me. The day I heard Sionis was dead? Was the first full night of sleep I'd gotten for almost a year.

Jason doesn't have that. I can't blame him for any choice he makes while trying to find some peace.

[It's the fear in her posture that does it. Triggers the realization that Stephanie is afraid of him.

He's probably always known on some instinctive level, but that's the first time it registers. It's like a blow. Because for all that Bruce is cold and hard and for all that he cloaks himself in terror and darkness he's never wanted to inflict it on anyone who doesn't deserve it.

He's not like Black Mask. He's nothing like Roman Sionis. But Bruce is well aware of the fact that he's very alpha male, and that-- that correlation alone can't be pleasant.

So he's silent and very still while she speaks.

He's been tortured before. By people who knew what they were doing and some that didn't, but physical pain has never troubled him. He fights through it, or past it, or ignores it-- whatever's necessary, when it's necessary. That's how he's always been.

But it wasn't like that with Bane. Bane did more than hurt him, though he still has - his mouth twists into a grimace - nightmares about that fight. About how weak and helpless he felt, the relief at the thought that the battle might finally be over--

And God, he knows. He knows perfectly well what she means. If he closes his eyes he can hear the crack when Bane broke his back, the whistle of sound an air when he threw him from the roof. Everything that followed. Alfred-- God, he remembers Alfred sitting beside his bed, tears in his eyes when he thought Bruce was unconscious and how little he could stand it all. That feeling of being trapped in his own body, claustrophobic and cloying. The terror and the pain and the panic, he remembers all of it.

But they're just kids, and he brought them to this.

People call him a hero. He hates that word.

He and Stephanie have had their differences. They'll probably never be close. But he still steps out from behind the counter and - gently, as alien a concept as it is to him - wraps her in his arms.]

I do know. I'm-- [He closes his eyes, just briefly enough that he can imagine Alfred frowning at him] -- sorry.

[For so much. For everything he can't say. For the fact that at the end of it all, he still never wanted Bane dead, and he... he can't condone Jason's desire to kill the Joker. Even for the sake of peace.]

[Her expression - the anger and pain in her clenched teeth and furrowed brow - smooths out at the moment Bruce steps out from behind the counter, replaced a second later by confusion. The fact that he hugs her is maybe the most surprising thing that's happened to her in the past few months.

The last time (the only other time) Bruce held her like this was when she'd collapsed in his arms after running from Black Mask, and by then she was barely holding onto consciousness. Her memories of it are fuzzy at best, making her feel like this is an entirely new experience, and for a moment she's not sure how to react. It doesn't help that even the size of Bruce is someting different; Cass and Tim are both smaller than Steph, so she never feels as... encompassed by someone's arms as she does right now.

She wonders if this is what children feel like when their dad's hug them.

Eventually, after what feels like an hour but is really only a few seconds, her breathing evens out and she brings her own arms up to wrap around Bruce in return, her hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt.]

Thank you. [she refuses to let herself cry right now, but her voice is still a little choked up.] I wasn't trying to make this about me, I just want you to understand.

[And that gratitude is so completely unexpected that for a moment Bruce's own self-hatred is a tangible pressure just under his ribcage and his grip tightens on her the barest amount. He doesn't want to hurt her, and she's so-- fragile he feels like he might.]

I'll speak with him.

[It won't change anything. But he'll do it.]

I think it can be different here. [She truly believes that, it's part of why this matters so much to her right now. She thinks that if Bruce is more aware of himself, or Jason's pain, then maybe they can do things differently.

For a long moment, she doesn't do anything except breathe, and it occurs to her that she doesn't want Bruce to let go just yet. This is the first real hug she's had since waking up in the ocean, and it feels like something missing has finally slotted into place. (She's always been a physical person, it's why she'd hated it so much when even the littlest touches set off her panic)]

I'm sorry for - everything, with the gang war.

[Not just for starting it, not just for Orpheus dying and so many people getting hurt, but...

For herself nearly dying, for staying hidden when she could have come home. She's spent a lot of time thinking about how it must have affected Tim, Cass, her mom, but - she realizes it must have hurt Bruce, too, to lose another Robin, even if she wasn't Robin when it happened]

[And all he can think of is staying by her side as she died. Her death was a cheap token that Leslie used against him, to teach him a lesson.

He's never forgiven her for that. He still goes to her when he needs a bullet pulled out or a wound stitched up, but he's never forgiven her for calling attention to something he already knows more intimately than she could ever hope to understand.

That this is his fault. That he created the Joker, that everyone he's ever killed is on his head. That in a way he created Dent, had a hand with Isley and Crane-- everyone. And that he has to keep fighting now just to hold back the floodgates that he himself opened.

The first time he met Shiva, she was with an old man who told him a parable that related to his life. He thought then that it applied to Talia. Now he knows better.

He releases her after a long moment, and turns back into the kitchen.]

Don't.

[Don't apologize. Don't try to set things right.]

That was my failure.

[He should have trusted her.]

[With Bruce gone, Steph crosses her arms, the closest gesture she can get to wrapping her arms around herself without actually having to. do that. because it'd be like admitting that she misses the hug.

Except then he says that, and all other thoughts fly out of her head.

It's not much of a shock that Bruce takes the blame for everything, he's got a worse guilt complex than a Catholic, but...

Everyone told her it was her fault. Leslie reprimanded her, Tim said a lot of cruel things, even Cass told her she should have been more careful. Steph honestly isn't sure how to process Bruce telling her that she shouldn't apologize for it. That it wasn't her fault.

She opens her mouth, closes it, then brings up her hands to cover her face, pressing her fingers against her closed eyes and brushing away the tears that are threatening to spill. She was prepared for an emotionally intense conversation, but this has been something else entirely.

The thing that finally gets her to speak is the fact that she doesn't want him to have to bear all her guilt.]

I think we both made mistakes.

[Maybe guilt is easier when it's shared.]

Mm.

[It's neither agreement nor disagreement, not directly. Instead, he just picks up his glass and takes a drink and doesn't look at her. It's obvious that she's on the verge of tears and it's the only semblance of privacy he can offer.]

[Get it together, Brown.

It takes her a little while to feel like she can open her eyes and talk to him without breaking down, but she does manage it eventually. And then she steps back up to the kitchen bench, wrapping her hands around the glass without lifting it, or even planning to drink from it.

She feels like she's twisted and pulled, wrung out and left to dry, and she's honestly not sure what she's going to do when she goes back to her suite. Maybe she can find some kedan criminals to beat the crap out of until she feels better. For now, though, she just gives a shaky laugh, the bitterness in it directed mostly at herself.]

I swear I didn't come here meaning to dump all that on you. I really did just want to make sure you were gonna be alright.

[She probably should have known better.]

[And now that that's settled - or as settled as things ever are with Bruce, he leans against the counter near the fridge, one arm across his chest and supporting its opposite at the elbow as he keeps the cup at collarbone height.]

As I was saying, about the gang activity. The Black Kirin have split into three splinter cells, each seems to be under the control of a former lieutenant and has focused on one particular venue, likely whichever one they were in control of before the dissolution of the primary gang. Our goal over the next few weeks is going to involve crippling their industry--

[He pauses. And he just... looks at Stephanie a moment. He purses his lips.]

I'll give you the details tomorrow.

[For all that she's a frayed at the edges, Steph is as attentive as always when Bruce starts talking business, finally actually drinking that protein shake (she even manages not to wrinkle her nose; she's a fan of real food).

But then he stops, and she blinks in surprise at the fact he seems to be willing to give her a break. Or maybe he just doesn't think she can handle it, but that's mostly her pride speaking. Still.]

I'm fine. This is important.

[Never let it be said that she let her emotions get in the way of the job (except for when she does)]

Stephanie.

[The way he says her name is almost a warning.]

Tomorrow.

[Bruce isn't stupid. He knows that for him, throwing himself into his work is the best and often only way to deal with things. But... not everyone is the same. And holding others to his standards is exactly how they get hurt. He's seen it happen too many damn times already.

Stephanie taking one night to herself won't make or break his plans. And he's not doing it for her. Because she's weak.

He's... doing it because he's learning how. And this seems as good a starting point as any.]

[She watches him for a moment, trying to decide whether she wants to argue the point. It's never easy with Bruce, to work out the motivation behind his actions, and she's so used to assuming the worst.

But - after everything else that's happened tonight, she thinks he's probably doing this for the right reasons.

She nods.] Tomorrow.

[She's finished with the protein shake, and she places it back on the kitchen bench, fiddling with the glass a little. It might be pushing it to keep talking about this topic, but there's one mor ething she wants to say] I'm gonna try to talk to him, too. There's... a story I need to tell him.

[about how her father killed someone for hurting her, and how it didn't make her feel any better]

[His eyes narrow.]

Which?

[Though he probably already knows the answer, doesn't he.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject